


s is for sleepy

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blowjobs, Established Relationship, I'm full of sin, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 08:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5533091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matsukawa has a naturally sleepy face, and when he’s <i>actually</i> tired there isn’t really anything that can keep him awake.</p><p>Luckily, there’s an exception to every rule, and Hanamaki just happens to know what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	s is for sleepy

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas ya filthy animals

Matsukawa closes his book with determination.

His lips part on a huge yawn, and he rolls over onto his back, eyes falling closed. They sting for a second as they adjust to being closed after staring blankly at the same page for minutes without blinking. “I’m going to sleep,” he declares, “wake me up when the semester is over, Takahiro.” He carefully opens one eye to gauge Hanamaki’s reaction.

Hanamaki, who’s sitting at the desk full of coffee mugs and empty plastic cans, looks up from the assignments he hadn’t been reading and smirks.

“You can’t sleep yet, it’s barely midnight and that exam isn’t going to pass itself. Like hell I’m letting you sleep.”

Matsukawa makes a noise of protest and buries his face in the heap of pillows he keeps in his bed, shutting his eye again and feigning ignorance.

Hanamaki sighs dramatically and gets up, pads over to the bed, and lies down on top of his boyfriend.

“Not helping,” Matsukawa mumbles, throwing his arms around him anyway. Hanamaki’s breath tickles along his neck when he leans down to answer, a distinct lilt to his voice.

“Want me to wake you up?”

“That again?” Matsukawa laughs.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Issei,” Hanamaki says, his lips ghosting over the strong curve of Matsukawa’s jaw like they had done many times before. Matsukawa knows Hanamaki can feel him shiver at the sensation but he stays still. He knows exactly what Hanamaki’s up to.

“Sorry, Hiro, but at this point I don’t think you can wake me up any better than I could. I’m just going to sleep here and when I wake up again I’m dropping out of university to go live in a dumpster.”

“Issei.”

“A nice, cozy dumpster, okay? Like, in a good neighborhood with lots of restaurants. Maybe it’ll even be big enough for the both of us. I’ve never needed much anyway, I’m a modest man. It’d be nice to get one with a lid though, in case it rains, you know?”

Hanamaki snorts and Matsukawa feels rather than hears his laughter vibrate though his body from the way they’re pressed together with no space left between them.

“You’re gonna do just fine, Issei,” Hanamaki assures him, planting a quick kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek. “But you need to wake up now or I’m going to bite you.”

“’S that a threat or a promise?” Matsukawa chuckles, barely dodging the elbow aimed at his ribs. When a shape vaguely resembling a face comes into view he realizes he forgot to keep his eyes closed in the wake of the attack.

Hanamaki’s face hovers right above his with some distance, his features all gentle lines and soft curves in the dim light of the desk lamp.

“That wake you up yet?” Hanamaki teases, running his hand up and down Matsukawa’s side.

“Mh, that might need some more work,” Matsukawa says, feeling his own lips spread into a lazy grin.

Hanamaki’s teeth glint, bared by his trademark smirk. “Now we’re talking.”

“You’re horrible,” Matsukawa says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“You know you love me.”

“Can’t really deny that,” Matsukawa admits, and Hanamaki gives him this horribly tender look before he leans back down and kisses him.

At first, Hanamaki’s lips are soft against his, moving gently but with purpose, coaxing small sighs out of Matsukawa with soft licks and teasing nips on his bottom lip. He tastes slightly of coffee, the sweet, sugary kind with lots of milk in it. Matsukawa’s never been a big fan of coffee, but if it comes with the feeling of Hanamaki’s tongue running along the seam of his lips, he might grow to like it.

Matsukawa opens his mouth, allowing Hanamaki to slide his tongue against his own. Little wet noises escape from the spaces between their lips, shivers travel down Matsukawa’s spine, and he pulls Hanamaki closer somehow, flattening his palms against his shoulder blades and spreading his legs so Hanamaki can fit between them more comfortably.

Hanamaki’s kisses grow more insistent, the push and pull of his lips more forceful, and Matsukawa drinks it all in. Despite the fatigue still heavy in his every limb, he moves back against his boyfriend, motions slow but sure. His fingertips trace over the dip of Hanamaki’s spine, chase the shivers running over warm skin when he slips his hands under Hanamaki’s shirt, and the way Hanamaki’s hips start moving in a very certain rhythm makes it a little hard to breathe.

“Awake yet?” Hanamaki asks when he breaks the kiss to take a deep breath, wet lips brushing along Matsukawa’s ear while his fingers dig into his sides, massaging them gently.

“Bordering on conscious,” Matsukawa retorts, snickering at the little huff Hanamaki exhales against the shell of his ear.

“You’ll be swallowing those words, Issei,” Hanamaki promises, his voice suddenly a little deeper than before, and he grinds his hips down hard, as if to prove his point.

Matsukawa bites back a low groan at the momentary increase in friction. “From what I’ve deducted, _I’m_ not going to be swallowing anything tonight,” he quips, earning a breathy laugh and a lopsided grin from his boyfriend as he pulls back to look down at him.

“Talk about horrible, Issei. We’ll see about that,” Hanamaki says, “I’m gonna wake you up all right.”

Matsukawa opens his mouth to make a comment, but the words die in the back of his throat at the sudden feeling of teeth on his neck. Instead, he lets out another groan, goosebumps springing up all over his body while Hanamaki alternates between sucking gently on his neck and marking him with his teeth, always just on the pleasant side of painful.

“Fuck,” Matsukawa mutters, hips hitching slightly, looking for that delicious friction from before. He can feel Hanamaki grin against the column of his throat, and teasing pressure on his groin, and honestly, he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this guy.

Hanamaki scatters kisses along his throat, his collarbones, the junction of his neck and shoulder, all while simultaneously managing to work his hands under the scruffy old sweater Matsukawa had pulled on that morning to demonstrate how much he didn’t care, ghosting his fingers over his bare sides again.

“What do you wanna do?” Matsukawa asks, enjoying the attention.

“Mh,” Hanamaki hums, “just leave it to me, okay?” He sits back, straightening his spine to pull off his own shirt and fling it towards the chair by the desk. His face is calm, but his gray eyes gleam with excitement. Matsukawa bites his lip, eyes unashamedly trailing up and down his boyfriend’s half naked body while he tugs ungracefully on his own clothes.

“C’mon, let me do this, you big baby,” Hanamaki says and reaches for the hem of Matsukawa’s sweater. “Arms up.”

Matsukawa complies, if with some complications when the piece of clothing gets caught around his neck, but eventually it comes off, leaving his dark hair even messier than before.

Their eyes meet again, something absolutely electric between them, before Matsukawa reaches for Hanamaki’s face and pulls him down into another hungry kiss. It takes him mere seconds to get Hanamaki to open his mouth, tongue pushing past his lips.

Hanamaki exhales sharply through his nose, pushing back enthusiastically with a twist to his lips and playful flicks of his tongue against the soft insides of Matsukawa’s mouth.  
A needy sigh escapes Matsukawa, the drowsiness from before slowly giving way to raw desire. His hands, greedy for touch, rove over Hanamaki’s back freely now, committing every slope and every dip and the feeling of warm skin over firm muscles to memory like it was the first time they got physically intimate with each other.

Hanamaki pulls back to catch his breath, and Matsukawa follows, chasing after his lips.  
Hanamaki smirks. “Oh? Have you finally woken up?” He licks his lips, keeping them well out of reach.  
“You fucker,” Matsukawa groans, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. He goes to say something more but Hanamaki’s there before he can form words, pressing several short kisses against the corner of his mouth. Then he moves down, dragging his lips, still wet with saliva, over Matsukawa’s exposed throat, down his sternum and then—

Matsukawa gasps at the wet, warm laps of Hanamaki’s tongue over one of his nipples, squirms when his boyfriend sucks a little on it, his teeth just a hair’s width away from grazing the sensitive flesh before he goes back to circling his tongue around the areola.

“Ngh,” Matsukawa says eloquently, his fingers tangling in Hanamaki’s short hair while he allows himself the liberty of canting his hips up to rub his half-hard cock against Hanamaki’s in needy thrusts. Arousal floods his body in sizzling waves, starting from his groin and spreading to his stomach, his curling toes, his fluttering eyelashes as he squeezes his eyes shut when Hanamaki pinches his other nipple with his fingers.

Matsukawa follows the small bobs of his head with heavily lidded eyes, resisting to close them again and just feel, because there’s something positively thrilling in seeing his boyfriend give all his attention to him in this way. He shivers at the cool air washing over his skin every time Hanamaki exhales through his nose.

Before he knows it, Hanamaki releases his nipples in favor of shimmying farther down the bed, soft kisses scattered over Matsukawa’s ribs, then his stomach. His heart squeezes at the gesture, and he fights the urge to grab Hanamaki by the shoulders and pull him back up to kiss him senseless.

Instead, he keeps his eyes focused on the lithe fingers fiddling with the drawstring of his baggy sweatpants, watches them undo the loose knot and slip under the waistband. Matsukawa lifts his hips encouragingly, hoping Hanamaki will hurry it up a little and get on with it — with whatever he’s planned, anyway. Matsukawa has a pretty good idea of it though, if Hanamaki’s glazed eyes and the lip licking are anything to go by.

The pants come off easily enough, revealing the tent Matsukawa’s pitching in his boxers and the little wet spot where the head of his cock strains against the fabric, soaking it with precome.

Hanamaki tilts his head to the side, eyes half-lidded but focused clearly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips once more, fingers twitching in anticipation.  
Then, something flashes in his eyes, and a mischievous smirk pulls at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, I guess I could leave it at that, don’t you think?” he has the audacity to say. “I don’t know, you seem pretty awake to me now,” he adds, deadpan face and all.

Matsukawa huffs, a little impatient now. “Takahiro, I swear to fuck—”

“I don’t remember saying anything about fucking, actually,” Hanamaki says innocently, dodging Matsukawa’s foot when he pretends to kick him in the face.

“What a grumpy boyfriend I have,” Hanamaki muses aloud, tapping a finger against his chin like he wasn’t the one at fault here.

Matsukawa gives a loud, expressive snore.

“Wh— No! No sleeping!” Hanamaki backpaddles quickly. “Fine, just let me suck you off, okay?”

Matsukawa’s stomach dips, and he swallows audibly, sweaty fingers twisting in the bed sheets. He props himself up on his underarms so he can see better. There’s a faint dusting of pink across Hanamaki’s cheeks if the light isn’t tricking him, his hair a mess, his eyes dark, and the joking air from before has dissipated completely. Now there’s only honest and wholehearted want in his eyes, the hunch of his shoulders, the steady determination in his fingers as they hook into the waistband of Matsukawa’s boxers and pull them down, just enough for the plain fabric to stretch between his thighs and a shudder to run down his spine.

Matsukawa’s heart stutters at the intensity of Hanamaki’s gaze before he lowers his head and flicks his tongue against the tip of his flushed cock, earning a sharp intake of breath. He does it again, lingering a little longer, pressing a little harder. Hanamaki’s tongue is hot against the underside of his shaft as he drags it up from the base to the head in one languid motion. He repeats it, obviously enjoying the little noises spilling from his boyfriend’s lips as he grows fully hard against him. Matsukawa groans, feeling more precome dribble down his length, his stomach twisting when Hanamaki laps it all up like he’s hungry for it.

“Fuck, Issei...” he rasps, barely loud enough to be audible, but to Matsukawa it feels like he’s kissing the words right against his slick skin and the thought makes him dizzy for a moment. Long fingers crawl up his thighs to massage them the way he likes best; thumbs dragging gently over the sensitive inner portion of them where the skin is the most delicate, pulling a tiny “ah” from his lips when the tips of his fingers stray up towards his balls but never get close enough to make contact.

Hanamaki blinks up at him for a second, looking for approval, encouragement, or _something_ — but all Matsukawa manages is a guttural rendition of Hanamaki’s name that rolls off his tongue like a shaky, messy prayer. That’s all the confirmation either of them need.

Hanamaki finally closes his lips around the head of his cock and sucks a little, his tongue sliding teasingly along the slit one moment, and circling around the tip the next, expertly alternating between languid licks and more forceful sucks.

Matsukawa groans, unable to keep the noise down when Hanamaki pops off to breathe only to take him deeper when he returns, enveloping him in the warm wetness of his mouth as he sinks down slowly.

Mouth falling open on a breathless sigh, Matsukawa lets his head tip back, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.  
Hanamaki’s hands come up to rest on his hips, gripping them tightly whilst he takes him as deep as he can, the head of his cock hitting the back of his throat.

A garbled string of curses escapes Matsukawa, and his dick twitches inside Hanamaki’s mouth, causing him to sputter for a second. Apart from that he seems unfazed though; a hot breath of air pushed from his nose before he starts bobbing his head, his lips gripping him just so, tongue slicking along his shaft just right, sending flames of pleasure through his system with every up and down.

Matsukawa’s arms tremble as he fights to keep his weight balanced on them, his thighs tense up and his hips buck as if they had a mind of their own, and he wishes he could just thrust up into that perfect, gorgeous mouth, but Hanamaki’s stronger than he looks, keeping him firmly locked in place as he ups his tempo.

“Ah, fuck,” Matsukawa grits out, teeth digging into his bottom lip in a last, feeble attempt to keep quiet. “Mh, Hiro—” he starts again, fumbling for more expressive words but none coming to mind.

Hanamaki hums appreciatively around him like he understood, the gentle vibrations a nice contrast to the hollowing of his cheeks and the delicious caress of his tongue, and _oh_ , the way he twists his head a little this way or the other, chasing the air from Matsukawa’s lungs with how unfairly good he is at this.

Little wet noises and indulgent slurps fall from Hanamaki’s lips, making it clear that he’s just as into this as Matsukawa, and that knowledge makes it all the harder for him to keep it together.

A familiar tension is steadily building low in Matsukawa’s gut, beads of sweat rolling down his temple and disappearing into his messy black locks. His heart beats quick and erratic in his heaving chest, his hands still fisted in the sheets as his hips fight against Hanamaki’s death grip.

“Ah, Hiro...please,” he gasps, his voice strained and on the verge of breaking altogether. His brain feels like its full of cotton — he doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, he just needs his boyfriend to know how fucking incredible he is.

Hanamaki slows down, pulling up and off, and Matsukawa opens his bleary eyes, unfocused from how he had them shut tight for the past who knows how many minutes. He makes out Hanamaki’s flushed face, lips shiny with spit and his own precome, and his gray eyes so full of unadulterated lust that Matsukawa’s breathing stops for a second. His cock gives another twitch where it throbs, heavy and hot between his legs.

A smirk appears on those perfect, kissable, fuckable lips. “Ready for the grande finale?” The question is as cheesy as their usual banter, but Hanamaki’s voice comes out rough and a little gritty, and it has that irresistible, teasing tone to it that’s different from his normal one. It’s the tone he uses to completely and utterly wreck Matsukawa, and when he recalls the last time he heard him use it his arms finally give in, letting him flop back into the pillows with a thud, one of his arms thrown over his face.

“Fuck, Hiro, just...can I—” he pants, throat too dry and too sticky at the same time.

A breathy "yeah” and a wet, warm kiss pressed into the coarse hair winding its way up towards his navel. That’s as much of a warning as Matsukawa gets before Hanamaki takes his cock back into his mouth, takes him all the way in and _swallows_ , sending shocks of pleasure through his veins as he does it again.

After a moment the pressure on his hips disappears, one of Hanamaki’s hands joining his mouth to work over Matsukawa’s cock, the other gently teasing his balls, rolling and squeezing them with the expertise of having done this a million times before, and yet he manages to never make it feel the same.

Matsukawa’s hips buck again, desperate for release, and this time Hanamaki doesn’t stop him, doesn’t hold him down. Instead, he grunts and takes him, welcomes the thrusts of his hips with a moan so obscene it has Matsukawa’s toes curl and his back arch off the bed. With both feet planted on the mattress Matsukawa fucks up into Hanamaki’s willing mouth, whimpered words of praise erupting from his throat as he nears his climax.

His hands find their way back into Hanamaki’s hair, cradling the back of his head with shaky fingers as he holds on tight, his heart racing, his entire body burning up. There’s that telltale pulsing at the base of his shaft, and when Hanamaki flicks his tongue against that sensitive spot right under the head he knows that this is it.

“Fuck, Hiro, I’m—” he cuts himself off as his vision goes blurry and his muscles contract, hips stutter, and then he’s coming, shooting his come down Hanamaki’s throat in thick spurts.

Hanamaki doesn’t even budge, working him through his orgasm with his expert mouth and swallowing all he has to give him.  
Waves and waves of blinding, white hot bliss crash down on Matsukawa, leaving him a panting, sweaty mess under his boyfriend as the aftershocks course through his body, making his head spin and his hips twitch.

When he starts coming down from his high and his surroundings start coming back into focus, Hanamaki releases him gently, his tongue swiping over the sensitive tip one last time to make sure he caught every last drop. He takes a slow, deep breath and looks up at Matsukawa, eyes hazy but a proud twinkle to them as he crawls back over him so they’re face to face.

“Hey,” he says, a little out of breath, his voice hoarse.

“Hey,” Matsukawa echoes, pressing a tiny kiss to Hanamaki’s chin.

“So, you awake now?” Hanamaki asks again, as if he hadn’t been affected at all by what they were just doing. Matsukawa knows better though, because he can feel him, his obvious erection trapped between them and poking his hip.

“Sure am,” Matsukawa says, sending a lazy smile his way. “What about you though? Need a wake up call?”

“Nah, I’ll just—! N-Issei...” Hanamaki’s breath huffs out against Matsukawa’s sweaty skin as he rolls his hips up teasingly, consciously trying to keep his own oversensitive cock out of while he rubs against Hanamaki’s with circling motions.

“’M gonna come if you — don’t stop — Issei,” he whines, voice high-pitched and needy.

“C’mon, lose the pants,” Matsukawa whispers, fingers curling into his belt loops and tugging on them. Hanamaki sits up, eager to oblige. Positioned comfortably on Matskawa’s stomach, he gazes down, sending chills down his boyfriend’s spine as their eyes lock in a lustful haze of bliss and blistering arousal, of complete satisfaction and unsated tension. Matsukawa pops the button of Hanamaki’s pants, pulls the zipper down and is rewarded with a long, drawn out sigh. The front of Hanamaki’s white boxer briefs is practically see-through by now, wet and sticky with precome, and Matsukawa has half a mind to stroke him to completion with them still on to see his come seep through the fabric and drip on his own bare chest. His desire to feel Hanamaki skin to skin is stronger though, so he makes quick work of the briefs, takes a second to admire the flush and the enticing shape of Hanamaki’s dick before he curls his fingers around him and starts stroking, his motions practiced.

He glides easily up and down Hanamaki’s shaft, and the thought that Hanamaki got this turned on from pleasuring him sends sparks flying in his gut, warm and tingly.

“You’re so beautiful, god,” Matsukawa breathes, his unoccupied hand stroking Hanamaki’s thigh and hip, and the way he rocks up into the motion, moaning freely with his hands braced on Matsukawa’s chest makes him want to flip them over and fuck him into the mattress.

He doesn’t get to act on it though, because Hanamaki’s starting to lose his rhythm as he falls apart beneath his hands.

“C’mon,” Matsukawa encourages and twists his wrist a little, thumbing over the head and smearing more precome over Hanamaki’s length.

“Shit, Issei, fuck—” Hanamaki gasps, his movements uncontrolled, rough, and—

Hanamaki comes with a muffled shout, warm come splattering onto Matsukawa’s chest as he continues stroking him at a steady pace, slurred curses falling from Hanamaki’s glistening lips, parted at a loss for air.

He rides it out, letting Matsukawa help him through it until he’s spent, and then he flops down next to him, breathing heavily. They’re both quiet for a bit, using the time to even their breathing and readjust on the bed. Hanamaki curls against Matsukawa’s side, resting his head on his bicep.

“Hey, Issei?” he mumbles against his shoulder, lips lazily brushing against his skin.

“Mh?”

“…love you.”

Warmth spreads inside Matsukawa’s chest, and he leans down to kiss Hanamaki, slow and sweet, his free arm slung around his shoulders to bring them closer.

“Love you too,” he whispers when they part, and in the dim light he can see Hanamaki smile, little wrinkles around his eyes.  
Matsukawa would love to just pull the covers over them and get a good night’s rest, but he needs to get cleaned up and despite what he said earlier … He chances a look at his abandoned notebooks and statistical data sheets on the bedside table, and a defeated sigh slips from his lips. It’s not like he could fall asleep right now anyway.

“I should get up,” he says, gently untangling himself from his boyfriend who seems to have forgotten what he woke him up for in the first place.

“Issei, where you going?” he mumbles, but Matsukawa shakes his head, brushes a strand of hair out of Hanamaki’s face, and gets to his feet. Before he leaves the room he looks back at Hanamaki, curled up on the bed with his eyes closed, chest rising and falling slowly. He looks so peaceful - it’s cute.

Once Matsukawa’s cleaned himself up and grabbed a snack from the pantry he returns to his room. The alarm clock reads 01:23 am, displaying the horrid time of night in bright red digits. Hanamaki’s still in the same place and position as before, a subtle but distinct snoring filling the room.

“Really, Takahiro? You’re such a hypocrite,” Matsukawa mutters to himself as he makes his way over to the bed, unable to suppress the smile appearing on his lips. He manages to pull the blankets out from under Hanamaki’s sleeping frame and carefully drapes them over him, tucking him in like a child.

“Good night, love,” he whispers before he forces himself to look away, grab his study material and get back to work.

 He makes a mental note to grab some cream puffs on his way home the next day.

 


End file.
